


Out Of His Damn Mind

by oscarwilderobbieross



Series: Wintersoldier!Bard [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Memory Loss, Winter Soldier!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oscarwilderobbieross/pseuds/oscarwilderobbieross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone was taking out the powerful families of Middle Earth, and his name was nothing but a whisper, they simply called him the Dragon Slayer. </p>
<p>A modern Winter Soldier AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of His Damn Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I said I would do it, and so I did. 
> 
> I'm making this the start of a series, so I can add to it whenever I feel like it.

It had started with the sudden death of a major crime lord, simply known as Smaug The Terrible, and no federal agency claimed the assassination, causing restlessness with the major families in Middle Earth.

 

You had the line of Durin, mostly involved in trade of valuables, powerful, but private. They had a personal vendetta with Smaug claiming their territory, and with him out of the way, they could move back. But their leader Thorin denied any ties to the murder, not hiding how pleased he was, but he felt worried.

 

Then there was the family in Mirkwood, a tight knit Mafia group that had formed an alliance with the leader of Dale, retiring into the shadows as their leader Bard vanished. Tauriel, the leader of Thranduil’s personal guard, had been spotted near Erebor, the Durin territory, so there were a lot of whispers about a new alliance. Thranduil, the leader of Mirkwood had quickly denied it, while remaining silent about the ties between Durin and his group.

 

A whisper started, quietly, but it spread like a wildfire through the ranks and the different groups, not only in the underworld, but also in the higher groups, and government. He was a whisper, and they quickly started putting the assassination of Smaug on him, granting him the nickname ‘Dragon Slayer’.

 

The man himself was called Bard, the former leader of Dale, and a man who had been deemed missing and dead. He lived, although it was nothing but a half life. He was under the control of Azog the Defiler, and his disgusting group, lead by dictatorship. He had been brainwashed, through torture and propaganda, and his mind was a broken one.

 

He knew nothing else than his life as an asset, his skill set and a determination to carry out his mission. Targets were a simple bull’s-eye, and he never stopped until they were terminated. He remembered nothing of his former ties to Mirkwood and their leader, he just knew his name was Thranduil, and he housed his next targets. They were children, but Bard didn’t let it register inside his mind, they were just targets, and if Azog thought of them as a threat, they needed to be terminated.

 

What he didn’t realize however, was that those targets were his own children.

 

The day after receiving the mission, he went on his way, handling his weapon with military precision, something he recognized from somewhere, and it gave him a strange feeling of peace. His hair was tied away from his face, a bandana tied around his face like a mask, showing nothing but dark and tired eyes.

 

 

His military boots were quiet on the concrete of the roof, and he set up quickly and professionally, getting in place behind the rifle and waiting for his targets to appear. He had the information, he had locations and movements of the three, he just needed the right moment, and the right angle.

 

He sat up straight as the first target appeared, and he looked through the scope to get a good shot, but as the young woman turned, and he saw her face, his finger seemed to be frozen on the trigger. He just stared at her, recognition flooding his head, but he had no idea who she was.

 

 

He took a shaky breath, knowing they were watching him, making sure he finished his mission, and so he readjusted the angle, firing at the wall next to her. She startled, and her scream was the worst sound he had ever heard, but there was a relief as he saw her rush inside the building again.

 

He started quickly taking apart the weapon, putting it back into the suitcase again, because the security of the place was probably alerted already, and leaving without a trace was his number one priority now.

 

He wasn’t fast enough, or Mirkwood had outstanding security, but there was a small army waiting for him outside, and he calculated that he wouldn’t be able to get away. He didn’t know why he didn’t just fight until he was unable to continue, like he was programmed to, but his shoulder just sagged and he let himself be seized.

 

He was led into a dark room, instructed to be stripped and searched, until he was left with nothing but his naked body and solitude. There were handcuffs on his wrists, but he refused to sit down, just leaning against the wall with his eyes on the bricks, not looking up as he heard footsteps behind him. “Did you kill Smaug?” He turned around, studying the tall, blonde man in the room. He was wearing a expensive suit, and rather impressive scars on the left side of his face.

 

“Yes.”

 

He was used to answering questions, simple ones about his targets, he wasn’t used to the expression of pain and shock that began the form on the man’s face.

 

“Bard?”

 

“None of my targets had that name.”

 

The man studied him for a moment, but the emotion on his face made Bard uncomfortable, and he directed his gaze at the floor.

 

“You don’t remember?”

 

“What?”

 

“Your name is Bard. My name is Thranduil.”

 

It awakened something within him, that name. Memories of warmth and fleeting touches, feelings of safety and passion. It threw him off, and he looked back up at him.

 

“Thranduil? You know me.”

 

He got a dry laugh in return, and it confused him. “God, yes, I know you. We buried you. Well, we buried a coffin.”

 

“We?”

 

“Your children and I.”

 

“I have children?”

 

The laugh sounded slightly hysterical this time, and the man approached him, a stinging pain in his cheek was familiar. “Yes! You have children, and one of them was your target!”

 

Horror filled him, and there were hot tears on his face, his knees stinging as his legs gave out and landed him on the hard, cold floor. Memories rushed back again, making him feel sick, paranoid, and he stared at the floor, pressed his forehead to the cool ground to find some rest in this dizzying dread.

 

“I’ll find you some clothes..”

 

It was the last thing he registered, before simply curling up on the cold floor and squeezing his eyes shut.


End file.
